The Frenchman's Marriage Demand

Zac nodded. ‘Unfortunately I don’t get to spend as much time on her as I’d like. Deverell’s is expanding and we’re opening several outlets around the world, including the new store in Mayfair. If your grandmother had picked any other day, I would not have been in London,’ he added tersely.

His frown told her that he was cursing his bad luck to have been in London on the same day that Joyce Addison had arrived with Aimee, but Freya shuddered to think what would have happened if he hadn’t been there.

‘I’m glad Nana Joyce found you,’ she admitted quietly, forgetting for a moment that they were enemies. ‘I don’t know what would have happened to Aimee otherwise.’

‘Your grandmother would have cared for her, surely?’

Freya’s face twisted. ‘I don’t know. When she found out that I was going to be an unmarried mother, she was adamant that she would have nothing to do with me or my baby. She bitterly resented having to bring me up and when I was a child I lived with foster parents for a while,’ she confided dully. ‘My mother had married and was moving to South Africa and my grandmother assumed she would take me with her. They had a furious argument when it turned out that I wasn’t included in Sadie’s new life.’

Zac’s mouth tightened and he was aware of a faint tug of compassion. No wonder Freya’s self-esteem was nonexistent when she had been so cruelly rejected by her own mother. ‘Is that when you were put into care?’

Freya nodded. ‘I think my grandmother believed that once social services were involved, Sadie would finally take responsibility for me—but instead she flew out to Durban without even saying goodbye.’ Now that she was a mother herself she found it impossible to understand how her own mother had been able to abandon her so easily. It was obvious that Sadie had never loved her, she acknowledged bleakly, but even after all this time, it still hurt.

‘After about six months I went back to live with my grandmother…but I was always afraid that she would send me away again and I tried my hardest not to annoy her.’ She thought of the years she’d spent skirting around her grandmother like a timid mouse, desperate not to bring attention to herself and pathetically grateful that Nana Joyce allowed her to live with her. It had been a dismal childhood and she was determined that her daughter would never feel so worthless or unloved.

She jerked her head round and stared at Zac. ‘I love Aimee more than anything and I won’t allow anyone to hurt her. I agree we should do a paternity test—it’s time to set the record straight. I just hope you’re prepared for the result.’

The fierceness of her tone shook Zac more than he cared to admit, but he immediately dismissed his doubts. She was bluffing, he reassured himself; or else her desperate financial situation had deluded her into believing he was Aimee’s father. Either way, he was not going to be drawn into believing her lies.

‘I’m prepared for the test results to confirm that you’re a common tramp,’ he said aggressively. ‘Finally you’ll have to accept the truth and move on with your life, as I intend to move on with mine.’ And ignoring her furious gasp, he turned his head and stared into the dark for the remainder of the flight.

CHAPTER THREE

TEN minutes later the helicopter landed on the roof of the penthouse and Zac lifted Aimee into his arms and preceded Jean Lewis down the steps. ‘Laurent, were you able to carry out my instructions?’ he greeted his butler.

‘Everything is as you asked, sir,’ the butler replied in his usual unflappable manner. ‘The nursery suppliers delivered a cot and other necessary furnishings and equipment, and the dressing room adjoining the fourth bedroom has been prepared for the child’s nanny.’ If Laurent was surprised by the request to prepare a room for a baby, his tone gave nothing away and his facial expression remained as bland as ever.

‘Bon,’ Zac murmured as he transferred the sleeping child back into the nanny’s arms. ‘Please escort Madame Lewis to the nursery and ensure she has everything she requires.’

He swung round and walked back to the helicopter just as Freya reached the bottom step. She looked pale and tired and was clearly in pain but she glared at him when he reached her side.

‘There was no need for you to hire a nanny. I can look after Aimee perfectly well.’

‘How exactly when you only have the use of one arm?’ he asked impatiently. ‘Jean Lewis has excellent references and she’ll take good care of Aimee.’

‘Where has she taken her?’ Freya demanded. Her whole arm was throbbing and she felt light-headed with pain but she refused to admit it to Zac—any more than she would admit to feeling jealous that Aimee had settled so happily with Jean Lewis. Her steps slowed and a feeling of panic swept over her as she followed him into the penthouse. She didn’t want to be here and she didn’t want to remember the past, but memories were bombarding her.

Zac travelled by helicopter as routinely as most people used a car and had regularly swept her off to parties and other glittering social functions outside Monaco, often flying along the coast to Cannes or St Tropez. The parties had always been wonderful, glamorous affairs, but Freya had only had eyes for him and even in a crowded room his slumberous stare had tormented her with the unspoken promise of sensual nirvana to follow. The hours until they could make their excuses and leave had been a slow torture and her anticipation had always been at fever pitch by the time they had climbed back on board the helicopter for the return flight.

There had been something incredibly magical about swooping low over the sea and the towering apartment blocks that lined Monaco’s crowded coastline, knowing that in a few short minutes they would be home. The sensual gleam beneath Zac’s heavy lids would stoke her excitement and as soon as the rotors came to a halt he would scoop her into his arms and race into the penthouse, stripping her with brisk efficiency along the way.

Sometimes they hadn’t even made it to the master bedroom, she remembered as heat suffused her body. In his urgency to make love to her he had deposited her on one of the sitting room sofas, and the feel of the cool leather against her skin had added a new dimension to her pleasure when he had pushed her thighs apart and entered her with one powerful thrust. Their hunger for each other had been insatiable, a wild, primitive passion that had known no bounds as he had dispensed with her inhibitions and made love to her with an inventiveness that still brought a tide of colour to her cheeks.

Heart pounding, she forced her mind back to the present and stumbled along the hall after him. Oh, God, what was she thinking? And why had her libido chosen now to make a comeback when she had spent the last two years living like a nun?

Zac opened the door of the guest bedroom and ushered Freya inside. ‘Jean has taken Aimee to the nursery,’ he explained, his eyes narrowing speculatively on her hot face.

‘Nursery?’ Her eyebrows shot up as she frantically dragged her mind from her erotic fantasies and forced herself to concentrate on his words. She remembered Zac’s chic, minimalist apartment as a confirmed bachelor pad—when on earth had he installed a nursery?

‘I instructed my staff to prepare a room for Aimee since you will both be staying here for the time being. I hope it will be suitable,’ he added coldly.

‘I’m sure it’ll be more suitable than a damp bedsit. I hope you haven’t gone to too much bother, Zac—Aimee and I won’t be here long,’ Freya muttered, unable to disguise the sudden bitterness in her voice as she remembered how she had struggled to afford even the most basic baby equipment. With a click of his fingers Zac could provide everything Aimee needed—it was a pity he was two years too late.

His mouth tightened but he simply said, ‘Laurent will serve supper in your room and then I suggest you take your painkillers and go to bed. You look like death.’

Terrific, she really needed reminding that she looked a mess, Freya thought grimly, especially when he looked so gorgeous. He had removed his leather jacket and she could not help but notice the way his black sweater moulded his muscular chest. He was lean, dark and so beautiful that it hurt her to look at him, she acknowledged as desire swept through her. Zac possessed a raw sexual magnetism, and, although her mind urged caution, her body was responding to him with a reckless disregard for her emotional safety.

She was trembling; not as a result of the cool night air, she realised shamefully, but with an almost desperate longing to slide her fingers beneath his fine-knit sweater and run her hands over his olive-gold skin to feel the faint abrasion of the wiry hairs that covered his chest. The images from the past were stubbornly refusing to disappear and she felt thoroughly hot and bothered as sexual frustration spiralled in the pit of her stomach. Swallowing hard, she tore her eyes from him and stared at the carpet. ‘I forgot my toothbrush. You didn’t give me enough time to pack properly.’

‘All the toiletries you could possibly need are in your bathroom,’ Zac informed her, ‘and the clothes you left behind two years ago are still in the wardrobe.’

‘Really?’ The surprising statement brought her head up. ‘I thought you would have wasted no time getting rid of them,’ she mumbled, remembering how humiliated she had felt when he’d hustled her out of the apartment. Her face burned at the memory but he merely shrugged disinterestedly.

‘I didn’t keep them because I was anticipating ever taking you back, chérie, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ he drawled laconically. ‘I’d forgotten they were there, until the maid found them in the back of the cupboard when she was preparing your room.’ He glanced at his watch and strode towards the door. ‘I’m going out for the evening. Can you manage to get undressed, or do you need me to help you?’

Freya flashed him a look that told him she’d rather accept help from a self-confessed axe murderer. ‘I’ll be fine, thanks,’ she replied in a cool voice that masked the sharp pang of dismay she felt as she wondered whom he was meeting for his dinner date. Undoubtedly the woman would be stunning and sophisticated—his current mistress? Or someone picked from his little black book? she mused sourly as she fought her irrational surge of jealousy. It was no business of hers whom he dated, she reminded herself, but the devil in her head was determined to have the last word. ‘Oh, and, Zac,’ she murmured as he strolled towards the door, ‘I’m glad you hadn’t planned on resuming our relationship because I wouldn’t come back to you if you paid me a million pounds.’

His eyes narrowed on her angry face and then dropped lower, to the frantic rise and fall of her breasts. ‘You’re here now,’ he reminded her silkily.

‘Only because you forced me to come—I don’t want to be here.’

‘Non, chérie, I can see that.’ The mockery in his voice taunted her long after he had stepped into the hall and closed her door, and with a yelp of impotent fury Freya spun round and stared at her reflection in the full length mirror. No wonder Zac had looked so smug, she thought dismally as she stared at her flushed face. Her pupils had dilated to the size of saucers and her lips were parted, practically begging for him to kiss her, while the hard peaks of her nipples pushing provocatively against her blouse were shameful evidence that he turned her on. Her body had turned traitor from the moment Zac had arrived at the hospital, and to make her humiliation complete it was clear that he was well aware of the effect he had on her.

Uttering a furious oath at her stupidity, she went to check on Aimee, who was sleeping soundly in one of the guest bedrooms that had now been transformed into a nursery. A temporary nursery, Freya decided firmly. Zac was going to get the shock of his life when he learned that he was Aimee’s father, but she was under no illusion that he would welcome the news and she intended to return to England as soon as possible, before Aimee ever realised that he did not love her.

She didn’t know what Zac would do after the test result, but she wasn’t holding her breath that he would apologise for misjudging her so terribly. At best she guessed he would offer some sort of financial support for his daughter, but she would put the money in trust for when Aimee was older. She did not want a penny of his fortune for herself and once she was over the temporary setback of her injured wrist, which had partly forced her to come to Monaco with him, she hoped she would never have to set eyes on him again.

Soon after she had returned to her room the butler Laurent arrived bearing a light, fluffy omelette for her supper. He was unfailingly polite but gave no indication that he remembered her from when she had lived briefly at the penthouse. Presumably her role as Zac’s mistress had been quickly filled, probably by Annalise Dubois, she brooded miserably. Was Zac with Annalise tonight? The thought was enough to ruin her appetite and she toyed with her food before heading for the bathroom where she struggled to shower while keeping her bandaged arm out of the spray. By the time she had finished she felt sick from the pain of her injured wrist and after swallowing a couple of painkillers she crawled into bed, desperate for sleep to swallow her in its comforting folds.

Zac swung his powerful sports car into the underground car park and rode the lift up to the penthouse apartment. Dinner had been an unmitigated disaster, he brooded darkly as he unfastened his tie and shoved it in the pocket of his dinner jacket. Not that it had been Nicole’s fault. She had looked stunning tonight and her low-cut dress with its thigh-high split down one side had left little to his imagination.

Throughout the meal in one of Monte Carlo’s finest restaurants, she had been on sparkling form and had prattled on endlessly about her life, which seemed to consist of shopping or sunbathing on Daddy’s yacht, and in the rare lulls in her conversation her smile had sent the subtle signals indicating her willingness to spend the night with him.

It had been their third date, after all, he mused cynically, and the unspoken rules of the game they were both playing dictated that tonight the attractive brunette had expected their relationship to progress to a full-blown sexual affair. But somewhere between the entrée and dessert he had lost his appetite for both the food and his companion, and instead of envisaging Nicole’s tanned, lissom limbs his mind had seemed intent on recalling every detail of Freya’s slender figure.

He had never known another woman to have such pale skin. It was as if even the sun’s rays had not been permitted to touch her and his hands had been the first to stroke her virginal flesh—as they had, he acknowledged, feeling an uncomfortable tightness in his groin. He had been Freya’s first lover and, if he was honest, sex with her had been an amazing experience he had never come close to repeating with any other woman.

And he had tried. He’d never professed to be a monk, he conceded sardonically, but sitting in the restaurant with Nicole tonight he’d realised that he did not feel the slightest desire for her and after driving her home he had politely refused her offer of a nightcap. Clearly disappointed, Nicole had eventually accepted his rejection, but he didn’t feel good about it—in fact he felt intensely irritated with himself, life in general, and, at the top of the list, the woman who had managed to disrupt his comfortable existence in less than twenty-four hours.

With a muttered oath he strode into the penthouse and headed for the lounge and the well-stocked bar, but the sight of Freya curled up on the sofa caused him to halt abruptly. The low coffee table in front of her was littered with books and papers and she was leafing through the pages of a thick folder, so engrossed that she seemed to be unaware of him.

For a few seconds Zac stood still and allowed his eyes to roam over her mass of blonde hair and perfectly defined heart-shaped face. Her grey silk robe was vaguely familiar from the past and he frowned as he focused on the way the edges had parted to reveal the wisp of silk and lace beneath.

Every item of clothing he had bought for her when she’d lived with him had been chosen with the express purpose of pleasing him, particularly her nightwear, and his mouth tightened cynically as he wondered whether she had changed into the sexy negligee set deliberately to taunt him. Freya was still absorbed in her books and his irritation upped a notch. Being ignored was a new experience for him and, giving an angry shrug of his shoulders, he stepped into the room.

Only then did she glance up. ‘Zac…’ She blinked at him and fire surged through his veins when he took in the image of her silky blonde hair framing her flushed face. Her skin was bare of make-up, but somehow that made her sexier, he decided as he studied her closely, noting the dusting of freckles on her nose and the fact that her long eyelashes were tipped with gold. She was staring up at him with her wide witch’s eyes, casting her magic, and with a jolt he realised that he suddenly felt more alive than he had done in months.

‘I wasn’t expecting you to wait up for me, chérie,’ he drawled as he crossed to the bar and poured himself a large cognac.